


My Soul to Take

by reapertownusa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapertownusa/pseuds/reapertownusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam takes possession of Dean...or maybe the other way around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Soul to Take

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Возьми мою душу](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097068) by [Tinnory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinnory/pseuds/Tinnory)



> Warnings: Dub-con overtones
> 
> Author’s Note: Written for slash_las prompt 'Freedom is an illusion'.

They should have killed each other. 

There was no malice or desire behind the stray thought as Sam idly ghosted his hand over shivering flesh. It was just the logistics of survival, and Sam was going to survive. 

Not as a useless, drooling bag of bones, but as an unstoppable hunter who had shook free of the bounds of hell, free of the bounds of his big brother. 

Dean had always called the shots. He probably always would have if Sam’s pathetically weak soul still held the reigns. 

Now it was Dean who made a strangled sound, back arching as Sam’s bored fingers stopped at a waiting nipple. A quick flick and then he twisted it soundly, grip clamping past the point of arousal, drawing it out into pain. 

While Dean’s features tightened, his cock filled, curving up against the back of Sam’s thigh. The corners of Sam’s lips rose in tandem with Dean’s hardening length, not bothering to hide his smug satisfaction. 

No one knew Dean like he did. 

The skin beneath Dean’s pale freckles flushed with some mixture of embarrassment and arousal, maybe shame. Sam didn’t care enough to bother deciphering the cocktail of emotions that flickered over the hooded green eyes staring up somewhere past him. 

This was where Dean trying to kill him had gotten his brother. Not that Sam had room to gloat. He hadn’t been any quicker to snap Dean’s neck than Dean had been to pull the trigger.

Even when the word ‘monster’ had slipped so easily over Dean’s too perfect lips, even when Dean’s overly expressive eyes had drawn the connection between the blood still hot on Sam’s hands and the body on the floor at his feet. 

Still, Dean was here beneath him now. Fair skin gleamed stark white against dark sheets as Sam mapped out every faded scar and contemplated what new ones to add to the collection. 

Dean was his, always had been, he’d just been too stupidly conflicted to take advantage of what was so clearly there for the taking. 

It wasn’t the bruising grip of Sam’s fingers that held Dean’s taught body spread ready and waiting, hips captured between the strength of Sam’s thighs. 

Nothing physical could hold Dean. 

Sam knew that Dean thought the choice here was his, that at any moment he could say to hell with it and walk away. He probably also thought he could kill Sam if he had to, or at least reach him long enough to force that broken mess of a soul back down his throat. 

Sam knew the truth. 

As his fingers traced down the straining muscles of Dean’s abdomen, claiming every angle for his own, he knew it could be the slice of a dagger’s edge and Dean would still lie there accepting as scarlet rivets trailed down his skin. 

Through the agony, Dean would continue to swear that long dead, little Sammy could still be saved. 

The power he held over Dean was absolute, but soured by the knowledge that Sam was likewise irrevocably bound to his brother. He couldn’t break the hunter beneath him anymore than Dean could walk away from him. 

For all their proclaimed independence, they now shared a soul. Maybe they always had. 

When he brought his mouth to Dean’s neck, teeth scraping over the rapid pulse, he knew there was no escape. Swollen lips and hazed eyes met him as he unceremoniously bent Dean’s knees up to his chest. 

It didn’t matter that Dean was offering himself up for wholly different reasons than Sam was taking him. It didn’t change the fact that while they may eventually die in each other’s arms, they would never die by each other’s hands.


End file.
